Ma Fleur Rebelle (Books)
by Fanpire101
Summary: Also in Plays. Her mind was broken; the only person she could turn to had turned against her. He was lonely; despite what he said, Patria was not a person and could not provide him with the pleasurable company his subconsious craved. He taught her how to trust again, and healed her mind. She taught him to forget loneliness. She was his 'fleur rebelle', his Patria. His Eponine.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Well, I've been planning this for a while, with some extreme assistance from the lovely Sasha Snape. If you guys don't read Tresors, I highly recommend it. I was inspired for this fic by Aaron Tveit's interpretation of Enjolras. The little things he did really told me more about the character than any other performance I have seen. Plus, the way he says "Who cares about your lonely soul?" is what convinced me that I was on the right track with this. Please be forwarned, I do speak a little bit of French, but I am not going to take kindly to people telling me that I made a grammatical mistake. For example, I will change it if it's supposed to be "mon" instead of "ma" but if you launch into a full-page review on how many grammatical mistakes I've made, I will probably suggest that you read a French fic instead of this one. I'm not trying to be rude, but I speak English. I am trying to stay true to the French roots of Les Mis, so please don't call me out on my French. With that being said, I really hope you all enjoy this. I've worked really hard on it, and would appreciate any critique (no flames, please) that you may have. Please, enjoy!

I also have this posted in Plays/Musicals. I posted it here to ensure that all Mizzies can (hopefully) enjoy it.

**Disclaimer**: I am not Victor Hugo, nor would I wish to be. That guy lived a tough life. This will be based on both the musical and 2012 film, and partly on the Brick, though I haven't read it in a long time.

* * *

Prologue

She always watched and never participated. Eponine was a shadow; she was invisible and she was good at it. The only person who seemed to see her was Marius, which was why she loved him so much. They had first met when she moved to Paris from Montfermeil. He had helped Eponine and her family find lodging and, in turn, she helped Marius survive on his own when he cut himself off from his family. He still kept contact with them, though he refused all of their offers of financial assistance.

She watched from the very back of the large crowd in front of General Lamarque's house as Marius and his revolutionary friends attempted to rally the people to support the revolution. Marius stood atop a pedestal that had been set up in front of Lamarque's front door. Next to him, the leader of the revolution stood with his eyes blazing and his blond curls ruffling gently in the wind. Enjolras, the marble statue, also nicknamed Apollo, after the Greek God of prophecy and war, preached to his followers about liberté, égalité and fraternité. Eponine didn't truly understand what he was preaching about, but that did not matter to her. She was there to support Marius and ensure that he did not get into trouble.

Trouble such as a run in with Patron-Minette, as this square was close to where Thénardier's gang conducted their less-than-legal business. "_Or a run in with the police,_" thought Eponine, as she watched numerous members of Paris' law enforcement ride up on horseback. Eponine watched as the various people in the square began to flee upon their arrival. She swiftly and silently moved among the people until she stood by Marius' side as he and his friend disembarked from the podium and began passing out flyers, passing along the news that the next rally would be held in a month's time.

"Marius!" He, along with his leader and his shadow, turned towards the voice. They were met with the sight of a bourgeois-looking man sitting in a carriage, leaning out the window towards them.

"Grandfather?" Marius looked startled. He had not seen his grandfather for almost a year, swearing off the Pontmercy family fortune and everything it stood for.

"Look at the shame you have brought upon our family! Give up this foolish business and come home! Do not force my hand in this!" Monsieur Gillenormand looked sternly into his grandson's eyes, and only Eponine could see the fear that shined through the anger.

"Marius?" He looked over at Enjolras, who gave him a look that requested that he make a decision.

"Vive La France!" Marius suddenly shouted, which started up a rousing cry that echoed through the remaining crowd.

Eponine looked around and spotted a policeman on horseback approaching them as quickly as he could through the throng of people. She quickly grabbed Marius' arm in one hand and Enjolras' in the other. She led them quickly through the rapidly dispersing crowd until she reached a dark alley way and silently slipped through it with her charges in tow. She hurried them down the dark alley, and through an abandoned building that backed onto the alley. When they reached the front door of the dilapidated old building she paused and opened the creaky door. Bright sunlight shone through and the boys could see that they were close to the Café Musain.

Marius wandered off, no doubt lost in thought over his argument with his grandfather. Enjolras turned around to thank the girl who had delivered them from certain arrest, only to find she had disappeared. Shaking his head and wondering who exactly their guide was, Enjolras strode purposefully into the café, already composing his next speech in his head.

* * *

Meanwhile, Eponine had followed Marius back towards the Gorbeau tenement. She could tell that he continued to be in a rage from his grand-père's words at the rally. She followed him silently as he stormed into his room and pulled out a small chest that held his few valuables. She watched from the doorway as he fiddled with the ring on his index finger before she decided to speak up. She hated seeing him in distress.

"Hey there monsieur, what's new with you? Still plotting to overthrow the king?" She heard Marius chuckle under his breath and continued. "I see you're still pretending to be poor. Well, I hate to tell you, Monsieur Marius, but I think your secret is out after the rally today with your grandfather."

He stood up and marched towards her, poking her in the stomach as he went. "I already told you Ponine, I won't take a franc that I haven't earned. All of my familial ties have been cut. I refuse to live in such a way if those around me cannot."

He began descending the steps as she grabbed the newel post and called, "I like the way you talk, Monsieur!"

He turned and flashed her a quick grin. "You are such a tease, Ponine." He quickly walked down the rest of the old, rickety staircase before leaving the building. Eponine scrambled to stay behind him. She caught up to him on the street outside the Gorbeau house, and felt her heart stop as she watched him lock eyes with a pretty blond bourgeois girl. She and an older man were visiting with the poor and giving them money. Eponine scurried towards Marius' side and looked up at his face. She felt her heart break at the sight. His eyes were clouded and he had a goofy smile gracing his lips.

"_Typical,_" Eponine thought. "_I spend every day with him, and he falls in love with the first pretty girl he sees._" Eponine knew, however, that she could not lie to herself. She was not angry with Marius, only sad and heartbroken that he was so obviously smitten with a girl he had not spoken to though she had been pining over him for months. Marius began to stride towards the girl, and Eponine could not bear to watch anymore, so she turned away.

"Eponine!" She froze as she heard a rough voice call for her. She turned and saw her father poking his head through the flaps of a tent set up on the street. He beckoned her over and she reluctantly approached him. Thénardier re-entered the tent momentarily and Eponine could hear him instructing Brujon, Babet, Claquesous, and her mother on what to do.

Eponine stood there, waiting for her instructions. She loathed working for her father, but she knew the punishments that would follow if she did not obey him would be far worse. Eponine started when she felt an icy cold hand grasp her elbow tightly. "Hello darling." Eponine held back a shudder.

"Bonsoir, Monteparnasse. Comme ça va?" Eponine tried her best to be polite to the man, who had been her childhood friend, but throughout the years he had become colder and meaner, and it had become more and more difficult to consider him as a friend rather than a 'client' or a 'violeur'.

"Oh, come now 'Ponine. Is that anyway to treat your lover?" He asked as he planted a row of sloppy kisses down her neck. This time Eponine was unable to mask her disgust. She quickly pulled back. A wicked sneer appeared on Monteparnasse's face as he reached for her, but it quickly disappeared as Thénardier re-emerged from the tent.

"Everyone in there knows their places. You, Monteparnasse, look out for the law with Eponine. Take care not to get caught, I ain't got the money to bail any of you lot out of the clink again." He kicked one of the poles holding the tent up. "Turn on the tears and make no mistakes."

Eponine quickly retreated to a street corner where she could keep an eye on the tent, look out for the police, and, most importantly, ensure that Marius did not get caught up in her father's scheme. She watched as her father lured the blond girl's companion into the tent and couldn't help but tear up as Marius quickly took the opportunity to approach the girl who, now that she thought about it, looked vaguely familiar.

"Please, monsieur, come this way," began Thénardier, adding a wheeze to his voice. "I have a child that ain't eaten today. If you could, please spare a sou. God rewards all the good that you do."

Eponine kept a lookout for the police while wondering where she had seen the blond girl before. She could not get far in her pondering before she saw the infamous Inspector Javert approaching with a few of his constables. She stopped leaning against the wall behind her and leaned around the corner to yell, "It's the police! Get out of here! Run for it! It's Javert!"

The man burst out of the tent yelling the name Cosette, which caused the blond girl to hasten towards him.

The grizzled police inspector marched towards them. She gasped internally as he grabbed her little brother Gavroche, who had appeared out of nowhere, and hoisted him up. "Another brawl in the city square, hmm? I wonder who will be to blame. If there is a witness, let him speak to me. Do not fret, good monsieur, I will see the criminal suitably pay for his harassment of you." Javert clapped the older gentleman on the back as he passed, and Eponine saw him flinch in fear as the Inspector's hand grasped his arm. "Look at this fine collection of worms and maggots. They could have picked you to the bone, monsieur." Javert paced up and down the line of criminals in front of him, and Eponine was secretly glad that none of them had been able to escape. Maybe if they went to prison she would have some free time to spend with Monsieur Marius. A sudden movement caught Eponine's peripheral vision, and she turned just in time to see the gentleman and his blond companion running away from the scene while Javert preached about justice and putting away as many criminals as he could. "…but where's the gentleman gone, and why on Earth would he run?" She heard Javert ask. Her father began to reply in his normal oily way, and it suddenly hit her.

"Cosette…now I remember." The little Lark, the prissy bourgeois girl from the square, the girl that Marius was so taken with, was the little girl from her childhood. She had been taken from their inn at Montfermeil many Christmases ago by an older, well-dressed man. She remembered her mother and father arguing night after night about how the work was not getting done, and how they should have swindled more money out of the obviously-rich man. And here they were, eight years later. Cosette was the one wearing the pretty dresses and the beautiful bonnets. And Eponine was the one wearing the rags and being treated like a slave. "_We were children together, and look what has become of me._" Eponine could not help her bitter thoughts. Her life had been as close to perfect as was possible in Montfermeil, but then Cosette had up and left, leaving Eponine and her siblings to pick up the slack.

Eponine watched sadly as Javert was forced to let the Patron-Minette go, but smiled when she felt a soft hand on her elbow. Marius had moved to stand next to her, but was staring in the same direction that Cosette had run. "Eponine…who was that girl?"

Eponine scoffed. "Some bourgeois, two-a-penny thing?"

Marius smiled at his best friend's sarcasm. "Will you find her for me?" he asked hopefully.

"It depends on what you'll give me." She smirked at him.

"Oh come now, 'Ponine. I'll give you anything, please!"

"Hmm, got you all excited now, doesn't she? God only knows what you see in her Marius. You haven't even spoken to her yet! She's got you all starry-eyed and delighted…" Eponine sighed as Marius dug for his wallet. "I'll find her for you. But I don't want your money, sir." She sadly turned to leave, planning on following the path that Cosette had taken and working from there.

She paused when she felt Marius grab her hand. "I'm sorry Eponine. I did not mean to show you pity." She smiled, feeling giddy in her stomach at the way he was looking at her. "And thank you for doing this for me. But, please, be careful. Don't let your father know, I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I'm always in trouble, Monsieur Marius. You know that." Eponine replied flirtatiously.

"Yes, I know 'Ponine. You're the biggest tease in all of Paris."

"And don't you forget it!" She went to leave, but Marius called her name once more. She turned to face him.

"Please find her for me, 'Ponine. I'm lost until she's found." She nodded and left, feeling her heart break with every step she took.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, there you have it. Please let me know how I did. I already have some of the second chapter written and ready to go, now it's up to you lovelies to convince me that it's good enough to continue with.

**_Translations:_**

**liberté, égalité and fraternité- liberty, equality, brotherhood**

**grand-pere- grandfather**

**Bonsoir- Good Morning/Good Day**

**Comme ça va- How are you?**

**violeur- rapist**


	2. Apollo

**A/N:** Not a great response, Book section! Hopefully this will get you interested. Cue Enjolras!

Apollo

He always watched and never participated. At least, that is how his friends viewed him. The Marble Man, Apollo, is what they called him. Many of them wondered if he was so cold inside that he could not possibly want for the love of a woman. Others wondered if he was even attracted to women at all. He was the only one who knew the truth about himself, and even then that truth was a biased one. He knew (or believed) that he would only ever have love for his motherland country, Patria. But in the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul he knew that Patria was only a figment of his imagination. He talked about France as if it was a person, but he knew that a country could not give him the same pleasurable company as a friend or lover.

Enjolras sighed as he heard a crash from the main floor of the Café Musain, followed by Grantaire's drunken cursing. Enjolras heard footsteps and turned towards the staircase to see if anyone was coming to get him. Madam Huchloup would always come to him if Grantaire's drunken escapades became too much for her to handle, but she did not appear at the top of the staircase. Instead, he heard the calm, soothing voice of Jehan Prouvaire wafting up from downstairs as he attempted to reason with Grantaire. Enjolras decided to stay on the upper floor of the café, leaving Jehan to his work. If Enjolras was the god of war and prophecy, then Jehan was the god of patience, as his ability to deal with Grantaire was seemingly endless.

Rather than dwell upon what one of his closest friends had done to Madam Huchloup's café, Enjolras turned back to the open window of the café and looked out into the Parisian landscape. Twilight was approaching, and he could spot the young couples emerging from their homes or from various shops to enjoy the moonlight and the cooler air. This happened every night: Enjolras would watch the happy couples of Paris strolling in the moonlight. One could not tell what class they were or how much money they had, only that they were in love and happy with their lives. He sighed and, for a moment, allowed his thoughts to wonder. "_So many times out there I've watched a happy pair strolling together in the night. From so high up they seem to have no worries, no cares at all but the person at their side. If only…No! Gabriel Enjolras, do not think that way. You have dedicated yourself to Patria; any other emotional connection would slow your plans for a brighter future. Do not stray from the path that God has put you on,_" he told himself firmly. It did not matter to him that Patria could not shower him with love and affection as so many of Les Amis' mistresses did. It did not matter that he could not have an intelligent conversation with France as he could with a woman. His soul, however lonely it may have been, did not matter because there were so many poor people on the streets who were selling their souls for a measly crust of bread. He refused to let anything, especially a biological desire, deter him from his goal of a New France.

However, he could not help the tiniest of jealousies that coursed through him as he watched the people below him. Various groupings of people: lovers, families, friends; they were all meeting up on the streets, talking and laughing. The sounds of their merriment carried up to him, and he could not help his subconscious desire to have what those people had. He wanted to be carefree; to have a life, and to share that life with someone as passionate about equality as he was.

He started from his thoughts as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Mon ami, you are too serious." He watched as Combeferre settled into the seat beside him.

"One of us has to be, 'Ferre. Too many of the men do not take our cause seriously enough."

Combeferre shook his head and laughed. "I suppose you're talking about Marius and Grantaire?"

Enjolras sighed. "Among others. Many of the men seem too consumed by trivial pursuits rather than bettering society."

"Well, we all can't be made of marble like you, Apollo." Enjolras turned to see an extremely drunk Grantaire being assisted up the stairs by little Jehan. Grantaire was chuckling to himself at his own comment as Jehan deposited him in one of the chairs. "Some of us need the love of a pretty woman to get us through the day." Grantaire continued.

"That's enough out of you, wine-cask." Enjolras retorted as the other men came upstairs and stationed themselves around the room. Just like that, their meeting commenced. The next hour and a half contained speeches about inequality, rallying cheers from the various men, and three inappropriate comments from Grantaire. The meeting came to an abrupt end when Marius wandered in, looking very much like a crazed man.

Enjolras sighed and stepped down from his podium. "Marius, you're late!" he barked, fed up with his best friend's tardiness.

"What is wrong, Marius? You look pale and your pupils are dilated." Joly approached him and felt his forehead. Not sensing a fever, and praying that whatever disease Marius had picked up was not catching, Joly stepped back to the bar and retrieved a mug for Grantaire, who was standing next to him. Marius continued to stare off into space, not even registering his surroundings. "Marius, you look as if you've seen a ghost!"

Enjolras, quickly tiring of the proceedings, went to stand next to Combeferre, who was standing at the long table that served as their desk for planning speeches and rallies. However, he did stand close by, so as to hear why Marius had been late.

"Here Marius, have some wine and tell us why you could not attend Apollo's precious meeting." Grantaire pushed a mug of wine into Marius' hand and sat across the table from him.

Marius accepted the wine and took a sip before launching into his tale. "Joly, you say I look as if I've seen a ghost. I am not sure what I have seen, for she was there one moment and gone the next. She may as well have been a ghost. I wasn't able to speak to her, and she had this ethereal beauty to her that made her seem…otherworldly."

Grantaire let loose a booming laugh. "So Marius has found a girl, eh? I am aghast, mon ami; I have never heard you speak like this before." Grantaire looked towards Enjolras, who had turned towards them slightly in order to hear what they were saying. Grantaire pointed his index finger towards him. "Here's Apollo speaking of battles against the government, and Marius begins acting like he's been struck by Cupid's misguided arrow! It's better than Don Juan; it's better than an Opera!"

Enjolras shook his head in derision. This is what he had meant before, when he was speaking to Combeferre. Even Marius, his closest companion since childhood, could not fully commit to the cause due to his wandering tendencies. He listened for a moment as Marius described the nameless girl with the "beautiful blond hair" and the "eyes as clear as the blue sky" until he had had enough.

Enjolras marched over to their table and straddled the chair that, for some reason, was sitting backwards against the table. "This is not the time to lose focus, mes amis. This is the time to decide who we are, and who history will remember us as. Do we want to be remembered as men who fought valiantly or as rich little boys playing a war game? Do we fight for the right to a night at the Opera, or do we fight for the downtrodden people who have lost faith in the country that birthed them?"

Enjolras continued speaking about how he could feel the times changed, and did not notice Grantaire's eyes upon him. No one knew why Grantaire lost himself at the bottom of a bottle, nor did they know why he believed in Enjolras so much. The only thing Grantaire had told his friends was that Enjolras reminded him of someone from his past, someone that he believed in fully, someone whom he had lost as a child.

"Has anyone asked themselves what price they might pay for a New France?" Enjolras asked. "If anyone is unwilling to pay that price, then I implore you to leave now. The time to rise is coming, and I will not have an uncommitted brother among our ranks."

Enjolras kicked up from his seat and moved to rejoin Combeferre in discussing their plans when he felt a hand on his elbow. "Enjolras, if only you knew what love feels like, then perhaps you could understand," Marius looked at him beseechingly. "When I saw my beloved, I was left in a state of breathless delight. My entire world changed when I locked eyes with her. She completely changed my perspective in one glance."

Enjolras used Marius' hand as leverage to pull him in closer so that the other men would not be able to hear. "Marius, we have been the closest of companions since childhood. But neither of us are children anymore. I do not doubt that you believe you have fallen in love with this girl that you have not spoken to, but I implore you to see reason. You have committed yourself to a higher cause!" Enjolras whispered as Grantaire began singing a drinking song, successfully covering their conversation.

"I know, mon ami, but—"

"No Marius, I do not want to hear about your lonely soul! There are higher goals in life to strive towards than the love of a woman!" Enjolras interrupted desperately, unsure if he was attempting to convince himself or Marius. "Our lives do not matter in the grand scheme of things. Only the greater good matters." With that, Enjolras wrenched away from Marius in time to see a girl dressed in rags come to the top of the staircase and stare around. Enjolras recognized her and was tempted to go to her and thank her for saving them from time in prison for their 'traitorous rally'. However, Marius beat him to her. The pair conversed for a brief moment before Marius turned and locked eyes with him. Enjolras automatically knew that his friend was going to see his nameless love, and blinked slowly at him. Marius misread his disappointment as permission and ran down the stairs. The girl in rags followed quickly after.

"_Oh well,_" Enjolras thought. "_I'm sure I can thank her some other time._"

* * *

"Thank you, Eponine!" Eponine counted this as the twenty-third time Marius had thanked her in the ten minutes since they had left the café.

"I already told you that there were no thanks necessary, Monsieur Marius. I'm glad to be able to help," Eponine replied as she guided him through one of Paris' quieter sectors.

"Eponine, I have never felt this way before in my life. She is like an angel, though the angels would be jealous of her voice and beauty. She is like the Sun, causing everything in the universe to revolve around her. Eponine, I feel as though my life had not started before today. Everything I have done has led me to this moment, and everything I had planned to do no longer has consequence in comparison to her!"

The first thought that came to Eponine's mind was how on Earth Marius knew what Cosette's voice sounded like, seeing as they had not spoken to each other yet. The second was to ponder how much a heart could break before it would turn to dust and just…stop working. Marius had been the only person in her life to actually see her. Not see through her, not see her for her economic worth, not see her for her body, but actually see her as a human being. He was the rarity she needed to convince herself that her life still mattered. Eponine believed that, if God had placed this young man in her life, her life still had meaning. "_If only he wanted to be mine, the way I am his,_" Eponine thought.

Eponine was startled as Marius cut off his rambling to grab her up into a tight hug and swing her around. "Oh 'Ponine, you're the friend who has brought me to my sanctuary! Thanks to you I can find my beloved and become whole once again."

Eponine laughed at his exuberance as she directed him through the city. Soon enough she came to the iron gates of Number 55 Rue Plumet. She whispered to Marius that she would be waiting around the corner to guide him back, but was promptly ignored as the blond Lark approached the gates.

Eponine couldn't help but compare herself to Cosette. Whereas Eponine was dressed in a raggedy black dress, Cosette was wearing a pretty cotton frock with a silk robe overtop to keep out the chill. Eponine noticed that Cosette's hair was long, blond and flowing. She moved her hand to her own dark hair, feeling the knots and burrs from years of mistreatment. Cosette's skin was as pale as a porcelain doll, while Eponine's skin had been darkened by years out in the sun and accumulated dirt. Eponine remembered the times when she had been the one to wear the pretty dresses and have the long, flowing hair that her mother would comb every night until it shone, while Cosette had worn the rags and had the dirty skin and hair.

Eponine listened as Marius introduced himself and pledged his love for Cosette. Eponine couldn't help but roll her eyes as her heart shattered. The man she had been chasing throughout the years had fallen so hard and so fast for the girl from her past that Eponine herself had not stood a chance. Eponine couldn't help but wonder whether the same God who had placed Marius in her life as a salvation was now punishing her for her past mistreatment of Cosette. She briefly remembered one of Marius' friends (Combeferre, she believed) expressing the idea of "cosmic justice"; every past sin or misdeed would eventually effect the one who performed it. He had also called it a word that began with a 'k' but Eponine could not remember what it was. Eponine resolved that Marius falling in love with Cosette must be a punishment for her abusing Cosette when they were children. Eponine had lost everything throughout her life: a loving papa and mother, money, food, clothing, a home. And now God was taking away the one thing that kept her sane. Eponine slouched against the wall behind her and attempted to pull away from reality as she always did, but was unable to escape into her fantasy world because Marius wasn't waiting for her there. He was less than a few feet away, speaking to Cosette about his life and her life, and how they would be together always.

"I'm sorry," Eponine whispered to the Heavens, hoping God could hear her and give her Marius back. Her head began to throb and tears began pushing at her eyelids as she felt her throat constrict. "I'm sorry; please don't take him away from me! I'll make it up to her, I promise!"

Eponine wiped her eyes with her grimy dress as she heard a different voice call for Cosette.

"I'm coming, Papa," Cosette called. Eponine heard Cosette and Marius kiss through the iron bars and shakily stood, knowing she could not show Marius that the events she had witnessed had ruined her. She fell back against the wall again as he breezed past her without a second glance, smiling as he smelt a dainty white handkerchief. Eponine let out a gasping sob as she felt her fantasy world leave her for good. She knew in that instant that she could no longer return to the nights of happily fantasizing about herself and Marius being happily married while living in her hellish life. Eponine felt reality closing in on her, and start to suffocate her. Breathing erratically, Eponine buried her head into her dress as she attempted to ward off her personal demons. She was startled from her thoughts when she heard a boot crunch in the silence of the night. She looked up hopefully, believing it to be Marius returning for her, but was disappointed to see Montparnasse's lanky figure approaching her. She wiped her eyes hurriedly, not wanting to show weakness in front of him, and stood to greet him, trembling fragilely as she did.

He clumsily wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. She could taste the alcohol on his breath, and desperately attempted to imagine Marius in his place, but found herself unforgivingly tied to reality. Imagining Marius during all of her 'meetings' with 'Parnasse had helped her endure them; now that she could not escape from reality, she felt as if she was being violated.

Eponine quickly disengaged from him and pulled a smile, albeit a feeble one, onto her face. "Montparnasse, what are you doing here? Isn't this further out of the way than you would usually pillage and plunder innocent people?" Eponine attempted to sound cordial, but even to herself she sounded false and weak.

Luckily Montparnasse was drunk enough not to notice. "This is the house of that man from the square this morning. We're gonna do it; he looks to be the type that has plenty stored away. Apparently he paid a pretty penny for that slave girl you and your family used to keep around. We're gonna see what else he's got to give us."

Eponine recoiled in shock, but within an instant a serenity like she had never known before washed over her. She had asked God to give her Marius back if she made it up to Cosette. This was the way she could do it. If she were able to persuade Patron-Minette not to rob Cosette's house, then perhaps she could have Monsieur Marius back. Perhaps he would love her then.

"This is where the old man lives. Nobody really knows him, so nobody will believe his story if he says he were robbed!" a deeper, harsher voice barked. Eponine turned to see her father, along with several other members of Patron-Minette approaching. "I'm gonna get 'im to give me what he shoulda given me eight years ago when he borrowed what's-her-face…Colette." Thénardier looked over at Eponine and Montparnasse, squinting his eyes at her. "Who's this hussy?"

"It's your brat Eponine; don't you know your own kid?" Babet replied, his beady eyes rapidly shifting between her and 'Parnasse quickly. "Why's she hangin' about, 'Parnasse? We got enough for this one!"

"Eponine, go home!" Thénardier ordered. "We don't need you on this one."

Eponine took a deep breath, gathering her courage for what she was about to do. "I know this place, Papa. The man who lives here lives an ordinary life; there's nothing here to make a profit off of. It's just him and his daughter."

"Don't interfere, Eponine." Thénardier growled menacingly. "I told you to go home!"

"You going soft on us, 'Ponine?" Montparnasse whispered in her ear, causing her to jerk away from him, right into her father's arms.

"You've got some gall, 'Ponine. You've got a lot of explaining to do. Were you staking this house out as your own mark? Trying to strike out on your own? It won't happen, girl," Thénardier lowered his head to whisper in her ear. "I own you. And don't you ever forget it."

Eponine shuddered. She knew the consequences of disobeying her father, and had the welts and scars to prove it. Eponine remained unafraid because she believed this to be the only way to regain her fantasy. "I'll scream! I'll warn them! I won't let you hurt this family!"

"You let one squeak outta that mouth o' yours and you'll regret it for a year!" Thénardier replied.

Eponine backed away from all of them and found her back against the metal gates. Picturing Marius smiling with his arms around her, Eponine gathered her breath and let out an ear-piercing shriek that could raise the dead.

"Make for the sewers!" Thénardier ordered as all the men but Montparnasse took off. "You wait, my girl, I'll make you wish you had never done that." In retort Eponine spat in his face. Her father slowly wiped the spittle off his brow before backhanding her. Eponine hit the ground hard. He bent down low so that she could hear him. "You wanted to scream, I'll give you a reason to scream," he nodded at Montparnasse. "Finish her and meet us back at the rooms. And don't get caught!" Thénardier ran off into the night, leaving his oldest daughter to fend for herself.

Montparnasse quickly took her father's spot, crouched and leaning over her. Eponine whimpered as her vision flickered and she felt as though she was going to vomit. "Don't worry, 'Ponine. I ain't gonna kill ya. But if I ever see you around the streets again, I'll make sure you regret it," he said forebodingly. Eponine faintly hoped that he would just leave her there as he stood to leave, but found this not to be the case as she watched his big, black boot coming towards her face. She remembered Marius, and how all this was worth it, as everything faded to black.

**A/N:** Whew! That was an adventure, wasn't it? I hope you guys liked my portrayal of Enjolras, and I really hope you guys will like the next chapter, which is where the real fun begins. Please read and review!


	3. Mind Over Matter

**A/N:** Still not much of a response, people! If most of you are reading over in the Plays/Musicals section, then let me know!

Mind Over Matter

The next day started as if it was just another day. Enjolras rose before the crack of dawn and began composing his next speech. The light snores coming from Combeferre's room were slow and steady, showing Enjolras that he had not woken his roommate with what Combeferre called "the incessant scratching of a pen on paper". Enjolras had pulled many heavy tomes out of his ever-expanding bookcase to supplement his speech, including Rousseau's _Social Contract_ and _Discourse on Inequality_. He flipped through the pages quickly, jotting down a note or quote every now and then to use in his speech. Enjolras never left anything up to chance, especially when it came to the revolution. He needed the revolution to succeed, that way he could move on with his life and, perhaps, settle down.

For most of young Gabriel Enjolras' life, settling down and having a family was not of extreme importance. His mother had passed away when he was only a young boy of 12 and, after her passing, his father was never the same again. Enjolras did not like the idea of his happiness being dependent on another person. Being such an independent person, the idea of having to share his life with someone seemed a ridiculous notion. But in the 10 years since his mother's passing, he had grown lonely. He filled his days with speeches on social change and helping the poor and downtrodden, while his nights were filled with plans of building a barricade and attempting to convince Grantaire that drinking himself into oblivion was not going to change reality. He tried to quell the loneliness inside his soul, but during the silent hours of the night, he dreamed of a faceless wife and non-descript children running around the clean streets of Paris, calling him "_Papa_" and _"chéri_". He could not make the dreams stop because, when he was able to escape the dreams of domesticity, they would turn into dreams of the barricade, which would force him to watch as his friends died around him.

Enjolras' eyes began to droop while reading _A Discourse on Inequality_, and soon he found himself in one of these dreams, using the heavy book as a pillow.

_He was lying in a soft bed, and he felt a warm body lying next to him, causing him to smile. Usually she was out of bed already at this hour, tending to the older children and nursing their youngest child, a boy less than 3 months old. However, once in a while she would stay in bed with him and allowed one of their little girls to care for her "petite frère". He felt a smile pull at his lips as she burrowed further into his side, resting her head over his heart as her hair splayed across his bare chest. He always slept without a shirt on, claiming it was too hot with their quilt as well as their combined body heat. She had taken to wearing his sleep shirts to bed, claiming that proper female nightclothes were too uncomfortable for her. They were truly an odd couple, but nobody judged them because there were no social constructs in the France the revolution had borne. She sighed in contentment and pressed a light kiss right above his heart; then she raised her head off his chest slowly…_

Before Enjolras could see the face of his dream-wife, the dream changed.

_He could feel the heat of war upon his face as he stared at the barricade they had built outside of the Musain. Guns were firing rapidly, and screams of pain echoed from both sides. Enjolras watched, but could not act. It seemed as though, in his dream, he was the marble statue that his friends teased him about being. He was forced to watch in horror as first Courfeyrac was shot down as he attempted to drag the body of a small boy back behind the barricade. As if in slow motion, Enjolras watched as each of his friends died in front of him. Combeferre. Marius. Little Jehan. Joly. Bahorel. Bossuet. Shot after shot rang out as each of his friends eventually fell, their cold, dead eyes staring up at him as he just watched._

Enjolras was startled from his dream as a heavy hand clapped upon his shoulder.

"You know, mon ami, falling asleep at your desk is not the best way to convince me that you haven't been working too hard," Combeferre stated as one of his hands pressed against Enjolras' neck, feeling his racing pulse. "Enjolras, you need to stop and rest once in a while. You will work yourself to death before the barricade is even built."

"Well, if that happens, we all know how much you like to say 'I told you so', Combeferre," Enjolras replied.

Combeferre sighed. His roommate, who was one of his closest friends, always worked too hard at everything he did. And once he was finished, he would throw himself into his next project. Whether it be school, politics, or the rebellion as a whole, Enjolras was one of the hardest workers that Ricard Combeferre had ever met. "Enjolras, mon ami, you are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met," he sighed as he turned to leave. He reached the doorframe and turned. "I am going to the bakery down the road to pick up something for breakfast. Would you like anything?"

"Non, mon ami. Merci, though." With that, Enjolras turned back to his speech, or what would become his speech when he was actually able to get it started.

Combeferre sighed in frustration as he left the room, calling, "Even men masquerading as marble have to eat, Enjolras. I will bring you back one of those blueberry pastries you enjoy so much. That way you can have an excuse to take a break."

Enjolras continued flipping through _Discourse in Equality_ until he heard the front door click closed; he then slammed the book closed and rested his forehead on the leather-bound cover. He could not understand his dreams. They were the one part of his life that he had absolutely no control over, and he hated it. In all honesty, the dreams only came to him when he allowed himself to get too worked up over the pending revolution, or when he allowed himself to become too fatigued. The occasional dreams were enough to spook him, however, as he was unsure of which dream he feared more. Either dream seemed implausible to him. He knew in his heart of hearts that the revolution would succeed when the people rose to fight against their oppressors. But he could not see himself as anything more than a lonely politician when it did succeed. He could not see himself having a family and being…domestic. The domestic dream scared him because...well, he wanted it so damn badly. Whenever the dream occurred, he would desperately clench his eyelids together the moment he felt his brain awakening at its usual God-forsaken time. He would cling to the last threads of the dream, hoping for a glimpse of his dream-wife's face, or of what his children looked like. He wanted a family to quell the loneliness that ached in his heart, but he knew he could not have a free France as well as a family. That is how the dreams worked. He could not have both. They were irreconcilable.

Enjolras shook his head, causing his blond curls to become even more fly-away then they usually were. Unfortunately, the shake did nothing to clear his head and he was forced to abandon his speech due to his inability to concentrate.

Enjolras wandered into the living area of the flat he shared with Combeferre, finding Grantaire passed out upon their couch. Enjolras could not help the near-growl that escaped his lips. He watched as Grantaire shifted in his sleep and murmured something unintelligible. Enjolras was ready to snap at him, when Combeferre arrived back at the flat, gently closing the door behind him. He set the small box of pastries down on the table and went to join Enjolras by the couch.

"I can see from your face that you are not pleased with the situation," he whispered quietly.

"Obviously, Combeferre! The man has no limits! If he even is a man anymore—he seems to be more of a flesh-made liquor bottle at this point!" Enjolras hissed in reply.

"He had nowhere else to go, Enjolras."

"I thought he had a lady-friend with whom he spent the night when he got like this?" Enjolras could not remember her name, but he remembered her as a young woman who would gently guide his drunken pest of a friend home from the café, and stay with him until he recovered enough from the night to act semi-human again.

"She does not want to see him anymore. Apparently she believed she could change him, and when he did not stop his incessant drinking, she left him," Combeferre explained. "And speaking of lady-friends, I am due to visit Hélène, as she wishes to plan for the wedding."

Enjolras sighed. "I still believe it unwise to be planning a wedding, as well as a revolution. The timing seems wrong."

Combeferre shook his head, knowing that this discussion would have risen again sooner or later. "I know how you feel about my engagement, Enjolras, but this may be the only time to be married. If something is to happen to me during our time at the barricades, this may be the only way to protect her from the streets, and isn't that what we are fighting for?"

This argument of theirs always ended in an impasse. Enjolras refused to budge from his personal standpoint on the subject of marriage, and Combeferre refused to back down from his view that it was the only way to protect Hélène from the streets, should the worst happen to him. Enjolras shook his head, causing a cascade of curls to fall on to his forehead. He furiously pushed them back as he stalked to the front door of their flat and grabbed his red jacket.

"Where are you going?" Combeferre asked as he handed him one of the blueberry pastries he had gotten at the _boulangerie_.

Enjolras snatched it out of his hand as he pulled the jacket on, nodding his thanks. "I'm going to find Pontmercy. He did not return to the meeting last night, after he disappeared with that shadow of his."

"You mean Eponine?" Combeferre questioned.

"Yes, I suppose that is who I mean, considering I do not mean to literally find Marius's shadow. The girl that follows him around—Eponine, you said her name was?—came to the café last night and Marius disappeared with her. He did not return, and I am getting sick and tired of the foolish games he plays with this revolution." Enjolras wrenched open the front door with his free hand, and turned to Combeferre. "Please make sure Grantaire has left before you go to meet Hélène; after a confrontation with Marius, I doubt I could handle Grantaire coming off of a bender such as he had last night." Combeferre assured him he would, and Enjolras left the flat, calling behind him, "Give my regards to Hélène!"

Combeferre smiled as he began to wake his drunken friend, knowing that his marble leader did, in fact, care.

* * *

Enjolras may not have known the streets of Paris well during his youth as a bourgeois boy, as he had been continuously contained to the four walls of his parents'—for lack of a better term—home, but since he had been disowned by his father after his mother had passed, he had gotten to know them quite well. Therefore, he was able to quickly find his way to the Gorbeau tenement with little trouble. He nodded politely to the gamins he knew by way of Gavroche, and dropped a few sous into the hands of the men and women stooped with old age and hard times. After a 15 minute walk, Enjolras finally reached the tenement that housed his oldest, if most irritating, friend.

Enjolras quickly ascended the rickety staircase, passing a pile of worn clothes on the landing. He knocked gently on the door, fearful that it might collapse if he knocked any harder. After a few minutes of no response, Enjolras knocked once more and pressed his ear against the door. All he could hear was a slight whimpering, and a few occasional sobs, but they weren't coming from the room that Marius rented. Enjolras turned, and as his eyes passed over what he thought was a pile of clothes, he quickly realized that it was actually a small human being wrapped in clothes that were far too big for it. Enjolras quietly walked over to the curled up body and crouched down.  
He cleared his throat before reaching out and touching its—her?—arm. "Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle, are you alright?"

Enjolras almost fell over in shock at the speed with which the woman—yes, woman, he could see her long brown hair now, differentiated from her clothes—jumped and moved away from him.

"I'm so sorry, monsieur. Please forgive me, I'm sorry!" Enjolras was, for once, shocked into silence at her hasty and sincere apologies. She continuously apologized to him, though he himself did not know why she was apologizing.

"Mademoiselle, please! You did nothing wrong; I just wanted to ensure that you were alright. You seem upset about something." The young, malnourished woman looked up at him, and Enjolras was caught by the familiarity of her deep brown eyes. It was—what had Combeferre called her?—Eponine. That was it; it was Eponine, Marius' shadow. She looked slightly different than she had the previous night at the café, but Enjolras knew her. "Eponine, what is wrong?" he asked, never knowing her to be one to cry. However, he had not known her name before that morning, so he could not be completely sure what type of woman she was.

Eponine looked startled at the sound of her name. "You know my name?"

Enjolras could not help the slight chuckle that came out of his mouth. "Yes, Eponine; I know the names of all of my followers and friends."

"I'm sorry monsieur, but...who are you?" Eponine asked, looking up at him with slightly fearful eyes.

"My name is Gabriel Enjolras. I am the elected leader of Les Amis de l'ABC." At her confusion, he continued on. "I am a friend of your friend Marius Pontmercy." At Marius' name, she burst into tears, which startled Enjolras even more. At this point he was sitting in front of her in the hallway of the Gorbeau tenement, and did not know what to do. He was unfamiliar with the female sex, considering his vow of celibacy and the early death of his mother. He did not know how to act with a female at the best of times, let alone when she was emotional. He settled with patting her on the shoulder gently and quietly hushing her. "Eponine, what is it? Where is Marius?" The sound of Marius' name caused her to fall even further into her state of sadness. She reached for the skirt of her dress to wipe her eyes with, but Enjolras thrust his handkerchief into her hands before she could. He watched her closely. There were bruises all over her face, and she did not seem to be able to focus on his face for too long. "Eponine," Enjolras began gently. "Come back to my flat with me. You can have something to eat and calm down before you tell me what is wrong."

Enjolras was fully prepared for a battle in order to get her to agree. From what he remembered of Eponine, or Marius' shadow as he called her before he learned her name, she could drink even Grantaire 'under the table', as it were, and was full of so much sass and fire that she could put even the wittiest of Les Amis on edge. However, she just nodded demurely and stood from her position leaning against the wall. As any gentleman would, Enjolras offered her his arm, and was surprised again when she took it.

He led her through the city, not taking her through the many shortcuts he knew that would have shortened the journey. She seemed awed at the hustle and bustle going on around her, as the hard working people of Paris rushed to their jobs.

"Bonjour Monsieur Enjy!" a happy voice chirped from a nearby alley way. Enjolras turned and saw Gavroche coming out of the darkness, stuffing his face with a loaf of bread. No doubt it was stolen, but Enjolras could not bring himself to judge the poor boy.

"Bonjour Gavroche, commença va?" Enjolras replied, partially watching Eponine as she disappeared into the crowd of middle class women surrounding the window of a dress makers shop, seemingly not noticing what was going on around her. Due to his height, he was able to just make out the top of her head as he spoke to Gavroche.

"I'm alright, M'sieur. How're you?" Gavroche smiled up at him. Enjolras could not remember a time that he was not fond of the boy. He had been hanging around Les Amis since the group's conception, and no one begrudged him a few extra sous when they noticed he was hungry or thirsty. Gavroche did not want anybody's pity, so Enjolras was sure to enlist Gavroche in tasks that were important but easy, such as being a messenger to the leaders of other political factions that supported the cause.

"I'm fine Gavroche, but I need a favor."

"Course, M'sieur. Anything!" Another thing Enjolras liked about the young boy was his ready and willing nature. He always seemed up for any task, no matter how lengthy it be.

"Do you know where Monsieur Joly lives?"

At this Gavroche nodded his head eagerly. "Course I do, Enjy! He lives with Courf!" Gavroche had taken to the curly haired young philosopher when he first met him, and one could hardly deny that Courfeyrac was just as taken with the boy. Gavroche would often meet Courfeyrac after his classes were over for the day, and the two would cause havoc throughout the city for the rest of the day, always escaping the long arm of the law through Gavroche's knowledge of the city and Courfeyrac's ability to talk himself out of any situation. Their day would end at the Café, where the two would sit and listen to Enjolras' speech before Courfeyrac would attempt to convince Gavroche to stay with him for the night and fail.

"Can you please go fetch him, and tell him to meet me at my flat? Tell him it's an emergency." Enjolras watched as Gavroche nodded, then stuck out his hand.

"Something for me, something for you?" Enjolras laughed at the boy's industriousness. He certainly knew how to make money.

Enjolras held out a franc. "And one more for when you return to my flat with Joly."

"Deal!" And with that, Gavroche was off, tearing through the streets of Paris without a worry or a care.

Enjolras turned to Eponine, who had not been listening to a word of the discussion. She also did not seem to have noticed Gavroche's appearance at all, which caused Enjolras to worry. Whenever he had seen the two gamins together, they had seemed inseparable. It was also very strange for any person not to recognize the appearance of someone else. However, she had become distracted by the colourful dresses in the window, and Gavroche had not noticed her either.

"Come, Eponine. Let's go get you something to eat. Hopefully Combeferre left some of the pastries he bought this morning."

* * *

It only took a few minutes to get Eponine into the flat, and only a few more minutes for Joly arrive. Gavroche delivered him to the door and, after Enjolras had handed him another franc, he disappeared from the flat.

Joly and Enjolras stood with their hips pressed against the kitchen counter, observing Eponine as she picked at one of the blueberry pastries that Combeferre and Grantaire had left in one of the cupboards.

"What happened, Enjolras?" Joly asked, playing with the handkerchief that was in his hands.

"I am not sure, Joly. I stumbled upon her when I went to find Pontmercy, and she has not been able to do anything by cry and apologize." Enjolras ensured to whisper Marius' name, not knowing if it would set Eponine off again. They kept one eye on her as she looked around the apartment in awe.

"Are you sure that it is a medical condition that has caused her behaviour?" Joly questioned, watching the young gamine who was now wandering around the flat and running her hands over Enjolras' books.

"I'm not sure; you were the first person I thought of due to your…compendium of knowledge regarding all medical conditions." In truth, Enjolras had not thought at all when he stumbled upon Eponine at the tenement. All he knew was how uncomfortable he was dealing with her emotions. Joly and his strange relationship with Musichetta (and Bossuet) was enough to prove to Enjolras that Joly was much more adept at handling female emotions than he was, and so called for him.

Joly hummed under his breath and he quickly approached the young girl as she pulled out Enjolras' copy of Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_. "Eponine?" She turned to look at him questioningly. "Eponine, do you know who I am?" Eponine studied him for a moment, before shaking her head and turning back to the large bookshelf in front of her, humming softly as she did. Joly sighed, and took off his spectacles to clean them. Once he replaced them on the bridge of his nose, he turned back to her. "Eponine, I am a medical student at the university. Can you tell me what happened last night to cause the bruises on your face?"

Eponine thought for a moment before shaking her head again. "No, monsieur, I cannot." What caught Enjolras off-guard was her complete lack of interest in the subject. From what he remembered of her (and that was not much to being with), she was always extremely guarded about how her injuries came to be. If Joly attempted to check her injuries, she would shriek at him and anyone in the vicinity before joining Grantaire for a drink of hard liquor. Now she seemed to be completely oblivious, though her face was half swollen.

"Mademoiselle, would you indulge me for a moment? I would like to see if anything can be done about your bruises." Joly explained, gently leading Eponine to the couch. She followed him without a fuss, sitting down where directed and sitting perfectly still as Joly examined her face, neck, shoulders, and head.

After about 15 minutes of poking and prodding her skull, and only one incident of Eponine complaining that her head was sore, Joly approached Enjolras, where he remained against the kitchen counter.

"Do you know what has caused this?" Enjolras asked, watching the girl he vaguely remembered as a bit of a spitfire silently sitting on his couch, skimming through _Julius Caesar_.

Joly sighed. "I am not sure, mon ami. She has retained serious damage to her head, though. There is a rather large lump on the front part of her skull, which could potentially cause some memory loss. However, I am not a doctor, and I am certainly not the kind of doctor to specialize in conditions of the brain. It would be most helpful to find out what exactly happened last night when she left the café to cause such a drastic change in her personality."

Enjolras nodded, taking the news in with a slight shock. Enjolras decided that his first course of action would be to discover what happened the previous night. The next steps would be decided upon after he and Joly could discern what had caused this issue of the mind.

Enjolras strode over to Eponine and sat next to her. "Mademoiselle Eponine, may I speak with you for a moment?" Eponine nodded and quickly set her book aside. She looked at him with wide and slightly blank eyes. "Eponine, can you tell me what you did last night?" She shook her head at him, and he sighed in frustration. "Eponine, please think. This is extremely important," he said, a bit more harshly than he ought, perhaps.

Eponine blinked at him, slightly startled with his outburst. She sat and thought for a long moment. The longer she thought, the more visibly frightened and confused she became. "I'm—I'm not sure, Monsieur—"

Enjolras cut her off. "Eponine, please! There is no need to use such formalities; my name is Enjolras and I shall be addressed as such." Joly rolled his eyes at his incompetent friend. The man knew how to speak well to crowds, and rouse people to fight for a cause they were not fully committed to, but speaking one-on-one with a woman rendered him as pathetically human as the rest of Les Amis.

"E-Enjolras," Eponine began again, slowly. "I don't remember what I did last night." Eponine was now truly frightened. She could not remember anything that had happened the previous night. She attempted to think back further, but continued to draw a blank. The last thing she remembered was walking down the stairs with Marius after the rally in front of Lamarque's house, and even the events that took place before that were blurred in her mind. She attempted to tell him that, but she was suddenly struck with a memory.

_Eponine awoke beneath a row of bushes, with no idea how she had come to be there. She rolled out from underneath them to find she was on a street she did not know. She was about to come out of hiding when a noise startled her, and she dove back into the bushes like a frightened rabbit. The night was dark around her, but she was able to see a man walking away from the bushes. He seemed tense and upset, and was speaking to himself._

"Where could she have gone? I have to find her. Why didn't she leave a note? Does she not feel the same way? How could this have happened?" Eponine watched as the man turned and struck his fist against the stone wall behind him in rage. From his profile she could identify him. Marius! But not the sweet, gentle Marius that she had grown to care about in the year since she had met him. No, this was an angry, rage-filled Marius. The sight of his temper frightened her and she shivered in the bushes as he passed. She held back of a scream of fright as he passed her hiding spot and aimed a kick towards the bushes.

When he was gone, she came out of hiding but could not stop shaking. She had never seen Marius so angry before. She noticed a piece of white paper on the ground beside the bushes, slightly hidden by the leaves and flowers that were blossoming on them. Eponine picked it up and noted that it had Marius' name on it. She quickly stuffed it in her dress before leaving.

Eponine remembered taking Marius to see his precious Lark, but could not recall arriving at their destination. Had something happened that caused his meeting with Cosette to be delayed? Or had something awful happened that caused his anger? Eponine noticed that her entire body was shaking, and wondered why. Suddenly it struck her. The last thing she recalled before her memory lapse was Marius walking away from her. The first thing she saw when she woke up was Marius in a rage.

Eponine turned to Enjolras, tears pooling in her eyes. "I am unsure of what happened last night, Enjolras, but one thing is for certain. Marius is responsible."

* * *

**A/N:** And there we have it. Another chapter, and I could not be more nervous. Please don't hate me for what I did to poor Eponine! It is all in good cause! And I love Marius, so please don't accuse me of being a hater. You'll see my plans in the next chapter. Please read and review!


	4. Candles

Light My Candle

The next hour or so consisted of nothing more than shocked silence. Neither Joly nor Enjolras could wrap their heads around the idea that Marius Pontmercy had beaten this helpless waif of a girl into submission and caused her memory loss. Eponine watched them stare at her blankly before shrugging her shoulders and turning back to the play that still lay open in her lap. She alternated between reading the dialogue—which she found outdated and tricky to read, having not read anything so sophisticated for a long time—and watching the sun move across the sky from the large window in Enjolras' flat. Thanks to a knowledge she did not know she possessed, she could tell that it was approximately 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

To Enjolras and Joly, this was one of the longest days they had ever lived through. Enjolras could not understand how only hours before he had been arguing with Combeferre about the topic of marriage. His day had been derailed by his discovery of Eponine, but he found he did not mind the distraction. People believed that his life was exciting and exhilarating. He was the leader of a revolution. His friends especially believed that his life was filled with excitement, though not of the same kind that they often took pleasure in. However, Enjolras found that his life was filled with schedules and speeches, books and essays. The only thing he truly found exciting anymore was the revolution, which was also very scheduled and precise. He found Eponine's condition, as dire as it seemed, to be a break in the monotony. However, Enjolras was having difficulty believing that his closest friend would be capable of such…evils.

Neither of the men in the room knew how long they had stood there watching her in silence, but it seemed like hours before Joly finally spoke.

"Do you think he hurt her?" Joly peered up at Enjolras.

Enjolras ran his hand through his curls, a habit he had picked up as a child. "Marius could not hurt an insect. He is one of the most non-violent people I have ever met, which leads me to believe that no, he did not hurt her." Both men were whispering to ensure that Eponine would not be able to hear their conversation.

"Then how did she come to be like this?"

"I am not sure, and I doubt that she knows herself. What do we do?" Enjolras asked the premedical student. For once, it seemed that Joly's over cautiousness would prove fruitful.

Joly sighed and took off his spectacles to clean them. "I'm not sure myself. As I said, this is not my area of study. I am sure I could find a professor at the school that could help. For now though, just ensure that she does get into any trouble. We are not sure how far back her memory loss goes, so she may get lost or have difficulties with simple things. She may also have headaches or some pain due to her injuries. Tomorrow I shall go to the school and attempt to find someone to help her. Right now though, I am due to meet with Musichetta," Joly explained. "She wants me to take her to the opera." Joly rolled his eyes in amusement. Enjolras felt a flash of anger at his bespectacled friend. A girl they both knew was injured, and Joly was more interested in keeping a date with the girl that he shared with Bossuet. Joly must have seen the anger in his eyes, and hurried to explain. "Enjolras, there is really nothing I can do as of now. I'm sorry. Attempt to keep her comfortable and assist her should she need anything. That is all we can do right now."

"Combeferre should be back soon. I doubt he would take kindly to a random woman living with us." Enjolras attempted to reason, but he knew even before the words came out of his mouth that his excuse was a weak one. The fact of the matter was that Eponine made him uncomfortable. Any woman normally put him on edge, but Eponine and her memory loss made him more wary than was usual.

"Combeferre and Hélène are attending the opera tonight with Musichetta and I. I will inform him of the situation. Should he take issue with Eponine staying with you, remind him that he has a furnished home close by that he plans to move in to with Hélène after their wedding. If he is uncomfortable in any way, invite him to take his leave." Enjolras sighed as his excuse was debunked, which caused Joly to chuckle under his breath. "However, mon ami, Combeferre is a medical student as well, so I highly doubt that he would protest to a patient staying with you. Now, if you'll forgive me for my abrupt departure, I must be off." Joly clasped Enjolras' arm before turning to leave. He called back a farewell to Eponine as he swung the door shut behind him.

Enjolras stared at the door for a moment, attempting to will Joly back in to the room. Realizing that his behavior was unbecoming, Enjolras turned back to Eponine, who had remained seated on the sofa with her legs tucked up underneath her. From the looks of it, she was only a few pages into _Julius Caesar_ but she seemed to be enjoying it.

Coming to the inevitable and somewhat undesirable conclusion that she would be his companion for the night, Enjolras turned to her and said, "Should you need anything, mademoiselle, I shall be in my room. Do not hesitate to ask me."

Receiving no response, Enjolras dedicated himself to finishing the speech he had left from that morning. Without the distractions that came in the form of his dreams, Combeferre, and Grantaire, Enjolras was able to focus more clearly on his eloquent wording. Occasionally he heard Eponine flip the page in the other room, but all in all she was a very quiet person, which aided in his focus.

Eponine, on the other hand, was entranced by the play that she was reading. She found it so interesting that the times really hadn't changed all that much. The government was willing to stab people in the back in order to get what they wanted at any time in history, so it seemed. Eponine thought of Enjolras, and how he was willing to take extreme measures in order to protect his city. Throughout the day, Eponine had remembered bits and pieces of who Enjolras had been to her. He had been like a god; the leader of the revolution that would change France was a god with his halo of golden curls and his faithful saints. However, Eponine did not relate Enjolras to Cassius or Casca, who had plotted against Caesar's rise to power. Brutus reminded her of Marius, who was willing to stab his best friend, just as Marius had been willing to do to her. But there were things about Brutus that reminded her of Enjolras, or what she remembered of him. Brutus treated Portia as an equal. He did not demean her, and he attempted to protect her from being associated with the traitorous plan. Enjolras had brought her to his home to protect her, and treated her as an equal, which nobody else had ever done. Marius treated her like a puppy, her father treated her like a slave, and Monteparnasse treated her like a warm body that was at his beck and call whenever he wanted her. Enjolras treated her like an equal, or he had so far. He did not look down upon her, nor did he speak to her condescendingly. He asked her if she wanted to do things, not demanding them like her father and 'Parnasse did. She liked that. She liked him. She had only truly known him for a couple of hours, but she liked him. She liked the way that he treated her like a lady, not a _gamine_. She liked the way that he wasn't ashamed to be seen with her in public. By God in Heaven, she liked him! The thought scared Eponine, seeing as how the last person she had loved had treated her (waking in a bush and knowing that the man you loved had put you there was enough to scare any woman off of the emotion for a while), so she decided to turn back to the play to clear her head.

It was not until hours later that Enjolras looked up at the clock in his room, and found that it was far past supper time. He strode back into the living area to find Eponine squinting at the final pages of _Julius Caesar_.

He cleared his throat, and she jumped in her seat, staring up at him with wide startled eyes. "Oh, monsieur, I'm so sorry. I must have lost track of the time."

"Mademoiselle, please, call me Enjolras. And it is quite alright. I should be apologizing to you, in fact. I have not been the most gracious of hosts, seeing how we have both missed both our midday meals, as well as dinner."

"That is alright, monsieur Enjolras. I feel as though I have had less to eat before." Enjolras shuddered internally at her confusion. Her memories were so muddled that she could not comprehend her life before this day. It was quite sad to watch.

Though her head was still foggy, Eponine could remember bits and pieces of her life now that the shock had worn off. She remembered most of her time in Montfermeil, but things got hazy around the time that her family had made the move to Paris. She could remember long nights in a dingy café, listening to Enjolras' speeches and spending time with a particularly amusing drunkard. She recalled much of her time with Marius, but all of her memories of him were now tainted with fear. She did not remember much of her time on the streets, which aided in her confusion.

"Well, if you are not hungry, I was planning on going to sleep now. You can take my bed, and I will sleep in Combeferre's room—"

"Oh please, Monsieur Enjolras! Can't I please stay up a few more moments and finish the play?" Eponine pleaded.

Enjolras was shocked. He had not known the girl could read, let alone get excited about a book. But there she was, sitting on his couch, begging him to allow her to finish one of Shakespeare's classics.

His shock caused him to relent. "Yes, fine, but Joly will have my head if I allow you to strain your eyes. Allow me to find a candle for you to read by." It only took a few moments, and finally he came up with a candle that was unfortunately missing its holder. He retrieved a match from one of the cabinets in the kitchen and lit the candle. He handed it to Eponine. In the new found light, he noticed her trembling and a fine layer of goose pimples on her thin arms. "Mademoiselle, you are shivering."

Eponine looked down at her arms. She laughed breathily, as though she had not noticed the chill. "I guess I am, Monsieur Enjolras. It is a little cold in here, but I have handled worse." She moved her hand quickly as she laughed, and the candle blew out. She held it out to him. "Could you please light my candle, monsieur?"

Enjolras took out another match and held out his hand for the candle. Eponine stood as he handed it back to her, freshly lit. She stumbled as she made her way back to the couch, catching herself before she hit the floor, and somehow managed to keep her candle lit.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" Enjolras asked urgently, reaching a hand out to help her regain her balance.

"I'll be alright, Monsieur Enjolras. I'm just a little weak on my feet, I suppose. I guess my head is bothering me more than I thought." Eponine wandered over to the large window and stared down at the street below.

Enjolras could not help but watch her. Even with her bruised face and the issues with her mind, she was a striking enigma. In less than 24 hours, Enjolras had somehow come to care for the girl. He genuinely cared about her wellbeing, and he hoped that her mind would recover after a good night's sleep. He did not think it fair that a girl who was given such a difficult station in life would now be burdened with an unreliable memory. He prided himself on helping the poor, beaten, and downtrodden, and in his mind, that was what he was doing. He was doing what was humane by helping her, and that was all. He kept repeating this mantra in his mind, but could not help but notice how nicely the moonlight illuminated her hair and face.

Enjolras sighed and ran his hands through his hair. His friends constantly teased him about not taking any interest in women, but it wasn't that. Not at all. He noticed women, and appreciated them from a distance, but did not allow them to distract him from the greater good.

So deep was he in his thoughts, he did not notice Eponine turning around, nor did he notice that he was still staring at her. Eponine noticed though, and despite her fragile condition, she thoroughly enjoyed his gaze. She saw Enjolras as a charming, handsome man who had taken her in during her time of need. Not many men were that sweet. Marius had certainly proven that to her.

She had been wary of all the men she had passed on the street when she was going to the Gorbeau tenement, which she was fairly sure she lived in. She had stayed close to Enjolras when he was leading her from the tenement to his flat. She had even been slightly fearful of the doctor friend he had brought over to examine her. But she found that she had no fear of Enjolras whatsoever. She found that fact very curious. She could not remember having any attachment to the man before this day, but now she found that he was the only one she could trust fully. The feeling that that gave her was an odd one. She felt that she was not used to trusting people, but she also felt that he was the person to put her trust in. She could feel it in her gut; he would not let her down should she need him. The thought caused a jolt of fear to course down her spine, but Eponine could not pinpoint why she was afraid.

Eponine finally decided to interrupt Enjolras' thoughts. "What are you staring at?" she asked sweetly, as if she did not know.

Enjolras shook his head. "Nothing, mademoiselle. I just became lost in my thoughts, pardon me."

Eponine turned back to the window and surreptitiously blew her candle out. She liked the feeling she got when Enjolras was in the room, and she wasn't quite ready to give that up just yet.

She cut Enjolras off as he opened his mouth to excuse himself from the room. "It blew out again, Monsieur Enjolras. Could you please light it again?"

Enjolras sighed. It had been a long, exhausting day, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Nonetheless, he reached for the matches again. Eponine brought the candle to him, and he lit it. When the flickering flame once again illuminated the room, Enjolras was took a step back. The flame from the candle threw her bruises into sharp relief, and he was startled by how close she suddenly was to him.

"Mademoiselle…" Enjolras attempted to think of something that would relieve the growing tension, as well as end their encounter. He racked his brain for a kind way to dismiss her, but for once came up with no words. He avoided looking straight at her until he heard her hiss of pain. Some of the wax from the candle had dripped onto her finger.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" Enjolras questioned, barely stopping himself from grasping her hand to remove the wax that had caused her pain.

Eponine smiled coyly—she had not missed the hand that had drifted towards her. She sauntered so close to him so that he could feel the heat from the candle and her body radiating against him. "I'll live, Enjolras. I've obviously been through worse." She looked pointed down at the bruises that lined her arms.

Enjolras took a large leap backwards and nodded at her. "Alright then, goodnight." Enjolras had to contain himself from running towards Combeferre's bedroom. He slowly closed the door, leaving it open a crack in case Eponine should need something during the night. He shed his shirt and collapsed onto Combeferre's soft bed.

Despite his unsettling encounter with Eponine, Enjolras found himself dozing within minutes and just about to cross the border into a deep, and hopefully dreamless, sleep. Alas, it was not to be. Before Morpheus could slip him away, a quiet knock came at the door.

Enjolras shot out of bed and grabbed the match book purely by instinct. "Did it blow out again?"

Eponine stood huddled in the doorway with the unlit candle. She nodded her head and he proceeded to light the flame again.

He studied her for a moment. She showed all the signs of having lived a tough life on the streets. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken in her face. How had she come to be there? She knew how to read, so obviously someone had taken the time to teach her. His mother had teased him before she died that he was always so curious about everything around him, and Eponine was quickly becoming something he was curious about. He did not know anything about her and, in spite of himself, he wanted to know. He wanted to know everything. He could not help himself from asking, "How old are you, Mademoiselle?"

Eponine looked thoughtful for a moment. She could remember her time in Montfermeil, and knew that she had not truly celebrated a birthday since she had lived there. "I am 19, I believe, monsieur." Enjolras nodded, thinking that the age suited her face, if not the terrible knowledge that remained hidden in her eyes. "How old are you, monsieur?"

"23 years old, Mademoiselle." Enjolras also had not celebrated his birthday for a long time; since the death of his mother, in fact. He had stopped putting stock into the idea that a birthday was something to be celebrated when he realized that many of the street children did not reach their first birthdays.

"Monsieur, please call me by my Christian name. I am not fond of formalities, I don't think. They seem to make me uncomfortable." Eponine looked up at him with her large brown doe-like eyes.

Enjolras prided himself on being a scheduled, planned man. He had his routine, and he preferred nothing interrupting it. With the exception of his closest friends, he never called anyone anything other than their titles. Therefore, he could not explain the sudden spontaneity that caused him to say, "I will call you by your Christian name, if you promise me two things."

Eponine shook her head vigorously. "Oh yes, monsieur. Anything!"

"Firstly, you must not call me 'monsieur'. I go by Enjolras. That is what everyone calls me, and that will include you. Agreed?" Eponine nodded her head eagerly, looking every inch like the puppy that she used to be when she followed Marius around. "Secondly," Enjolras took a deep breath. He had no inkling as to what demon or angel had possessed him to make this second request. "Secondly, you will stay here with me. Permanently." The look of shock on Eponine's face was enough to spur him to an explanation. "At least, until you are well. Joly and I are unsure as to the extent of your injuries and your memory loss. If you left here tomorrow, you could cause serious damage to yourself or others. You could get lost, or get into trouble with the law. It would be safer for you to stay here where someone can keep an eye on you and your health than to travel the streets and be in danger. Are we agreed?" Enjolras stuck his hand out to her.

Eponine slowly took it. "Oui, mon—Enjolras," she said as she shook his hand. She stared up at him with something akin to adoration. Any other time he had been on the receiving end of such a look, usually from women passing him in the market or from the young bourgeois women that his father used to try to set him up with, he had felt extremely uncomfortable. He could not explain why the look coming from Eponine did not bring about the same response. Perhaps it was because she depended upon him to keep her safe, or perhaps it was because he had subconsciously resigned himself to her presence. Whatever it was, it did not cause him to feel uncomfortable but almost…warm…inside.

Enjolras cleared his throat quietly. "Eponine," he began slowly, fighting against his instincts to call her by her title. "Are you finished with the play?"

"Oh oui, Enjolras. It was so wonderful! Parts of it were frightening, but it was a beautiful play," she responded emphatically.

"Well, if you are finished, are you prepared to go to sleep now?" Enjolras questioned, anxious to resume his rest.

Eponine blushed lightly, knowing she had kept him up in order to continue talking to him and flirting with him. Eponine was not usually so forward with men, but there was something about Enjolras' apparent disinterest in her as a woman paired with his caring and gentle nature that made her act flirtatiously with him. Yes, he was just like Brutus in the way he treated women. She responded that, yes, she was ready to turn in for the night, and he led her to her—his—room.

The room was sparsely decorated, with only a large bed and a desk with a chair. French flags as well as the red flags of the revolution hung over the back side of the chair.

Eponine heard Enjolras shift behind her, and turned to look at him. "I will go fetch some water for you to clean up with. Joly mentioned that you should keep your wounds clean."

Eponine nodded as she chewed on the nail of her littlest finger. She continued to gaze around the room with slight awe displayed clearly across her face. Large, thick books were stacked 10 to a pile on top of the desk. Eponine ran her hands over them, and noticed something that was out of place. She picked it up and chuckled to herself before turning away to put it to good use. The bed was large and comfortable looking. Eponine could not help herself from launching herself into the bed, bouncing into the middle of it. It was quite possibly the softest thing she had ever touched. Eponine burrowed herself into the red quilt that covered the bed. It was soft and smelled like pine trees and cinnamon. The scent reminded her of the good times in Montfermeil. She could vaguely remember that Christmas so long ago when the rich man came and took Cosette away. Cosette—Eponine felt bad about treating her so poorly. No person deserved to be treated like chattel. Eponine hoped Cosette was in a better place now.

Enjolras returned to the room with a bowl of fresh water and could not help the small smile that came across his face when he saw her snuggled up into his bed. She looked so comfortable, and he hated to disturb her. But he knew from his experience with Grantaire that sleeping in one's clothes was not the most comfortable thing to do. Enjolras tossed one of his nightshirts on the bed. "Eponine, I have some water for you to wash up with. You may use one of my nightshirts to sleep in, if you'd like."

Eponine took the cloth from the bowl and scrubbed her face with it. It came back almost black with all the dirt that had washed from her face. Enjolras, being the gentleman that he was raised as, left the room as she changed into her—his—nightclothes. When he re-entered the room, Eponine could not help herself from saying, "Merci, Enjolras. It has been a long time since someone has shown me such kindness."

Enjolras shook his head. "Every person deserves compassion and kindness, Eponine. Nobody should have to live in squalor. Please do not thank me; I have not done anything that a good human being would not do as well."

Eponine released a dark chuckle. "Then I suppose that I have not met many good human beings, Enjolras."

He looked down at the quilt. "That is what I am trying to change, Eponine." He quickly stood from his perch on the corner of the bed. He gestured for her to get off the bed and, when she did, he pulled the quilt down. Catching on, Eponine quickly slid between the sheets and Enjolras placed the quilt on top of her. "Bonne nuit, Eponine. I am just in the next room if you need me."

Eponine yawned as she burrowed further into the comfortable bed. "Bonne nuit, Enjolras."

Enjolras looked around the room, seeing if he had forgotten anything. He smiled when he saw the candle burning brightly in a small silver candlestick holder. He leaned over and blew it out, before heading to Combeferre's room for the night. Somehow he knew that his night would not be as dreamless as he had hoped.


End file.
